


The Tale of Leis An Òr

by crazyrandomhappenklance



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Drinking, Flirting, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Magic, Mermaid Tales Bang 2020, Mermaid Tales Voltron Big Bang 2020, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Secret Identity, Selkie Lance (Voltron), Selkies are not homophobic per se but they need to procreate and being gay doesn't get the job done, Singer Keith (Voltron), Singing Lance (Voltron), Supernatural Elements, Touch-Averse Keith, Water Spirit, mentions of interspecies procreation, non-consensual baby appropriation, procreation politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyrandomhappenklance/pseuds/crazyrandomhappenklance
Summary: Lance (or Leis An Òr as he is known by his people) is a selkie. Orphaned as a young boy, he harbours resentment, not towards the humans who shot and killed his father and injured himself, but towards his own people, because of their traditions which have kept him from knowing his mother all his life. Lance has something that the others of his kind don't. He has emotions, which have often caused him to be trouble. He vows that when he comes of age, he will not go ashore just to find someone to bear his child, he is determined to find love. His elders, fearful of him upsetting the status quo, give him an ultimatum; On the seventh tide he will have just seven days to find a mate, or he will have his selkie skin taken away, and no longer be allowed to return to the sea. Lance takes up the challenge with a determination to prove his elders wrong, but it proves to be harder than he thinks, especially when he finds himself drawn to spend each day in the company of a mysterious man with long black hair, called Keith...
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 96
Collections: Klance: Into the Multiverse, Klasix Master Collection, Voltron Mermaid Tales Bang 2020





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Voltron Mermaid Tales Bang 2020! This is the first Big Bang that I've participated in and I've really enjoyed the experience, despite the major inconvenience of being ill for three weeks with what I have assumed to be the Coronavirus. It set me back and threw me off this story for a while, but I didn't allow it to stop me. (Thankfully, I didn't require hospitalisation, and I am now fully recovered).  
> The briefing for the Bang was that the characters could be any type of mythical water creatures, and coming from Scotland, I really wanted to incorporate a little of the extensive folklore we have around here, and specifically the Fuathan; the Highland mythological water spirits that inhabit the sea, rivers, freshwater, and sea lochs.  
> Lance's character was inspired by the traditional folk ballad, [The Great Selkie of Sule Skerry](https://youtu.be/dSxrH8yYI_E), from which I imagined the son of the selkie not dying with his father, but surviving the shot. I found myself wondering why selkies would need to have their children with humans, and if that was the only way in which they could procreate, then what would that mean to a selkie who was gay? (Sometimes I think deep).  
> Some of the mythology in this story holds close to tradition, some of it I created myself.  
> I was fortunate to be paired with my amazing, multitalented friend [letmebelex](/users/Willow_wolfe88/works/), and you might be familiar with their art already if you have seen any of the pieces they have made for some of my other fics, which you can find [here on Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/let_me_be_lex/?hl=en), and [here on Tumblr](https://letmebelex.tumblr.com/), amongst their other fantastic art. Lex also kindly agreed to be my beta. We've had a lot of fun imagining this story together with many laughs along the way, along with lots of moments when Lex was able to motivate me with their positivity or give my shoulders a shake to get on with it! Lex was able to produce three pieces of beautiful art to accompany the story. Each one captures the moments in the story that they illustrate perfectly, and I can't express how much delight it gives me to see these scenes brought to life.
> 
> A small note before the start: Leis An Òr, means 'with the gold' in Scottish Gaelic, which is pronounced similarly in English, except Leis is pronounced 'leash'. We thought that 'Lance' didn't sound much like the name of a mythical water creature, but don't worry! He gives himself a new (and more familiar) name when he goes ashore.

In the lands to the north, there are countless tales of water creatures; the Fuathan. They dwell in the freshwater lochs and rivers, the salty coastline that hugs the mainland, and on the desolate, tempestuous islands that are surrounded by unforgiving seas. 

Most are regarded as malevolent, an easy assumption when so many humans have lost their lives around them, but to tar them all with the same brush would be wholly unfair. 

The Fuathan have a great many forms. Some are wee folk, some are great monstrous creatures. Some dwell in their waters, and some can shift from their supernatural appearances to walk on the land as humans.

Some are good spirits, helping people, using their magic wherever they can, and there are those who are completely indifferent, choosing to spend their time as far from civilisation as possible. 

This is the tale of one such creature, a selkie boy called Leis An Òr. His name was given to him by his people because of the chain that his mother had given him, which had always hung around his neck and set him apart from all the others. In their tongue, he was the one ‘with the gold’.

But first, let me tell you about selkies.

Selkies (or silkies, as some folks call them) are rarely seen, but the sailors know one when they see one. They appear as great, grey seals, distinctive in their unusual size. They say that they can walk on land, casting off their seal skins to reveal their human form beneath. 

There are stories spanning the years, telling of unfortunate unbetrothed souls. Caught up in their youthful naivety, they become enraptured by a selkie’s beauty and grace. Spellbound by their words and song, persuaded by their charm and seductive ways, they are quickly duped into sharing their bed. Then, the selkies disappear, with no trace or word, only to return before a full year has passed to claim their offspring and take them with them to return to the sea, never to see their mothers again. 

This has always been the way of the selkies. Born from loveless unions, never knowing their full parentage. But such are their ways because such is the necessity. All magic has its price, and the cost of theirs is not being able to produce children with their own kind. When a selkie comes of age it is their responsibility, their duty, to go ashore and find a mate for the survival and continuation of their race. 

Leis An Òr was a selkie in his prime. He was, for sure, one of the finest examples his species had seen in many years.

As a human, he was tall and lithe, with bronzed skin and chestnut hair. His athleticism visibly translated in his spirit form, also. He was strong and muscular, yet fast and agile, attributes which made him one of the best swimmers they had ever known, but he was often reckless and disobedient. 

Although it was forbidden, he was compelled to swim in stormy waters. There was something about fighting against nature when it was at its rawest that made him feel more alive than ever. 

His elders disapproved, but their punishments would go unheeded every time, forgotten when the next storm came their way. 

Leis An Òr had been raised by his elders, ever since he had been orphaned when he was a young pup. Tragedy had befallen him when he and his selkie father had one day both been shot by the same round from the gunner of a whaling boat. Leis An Òr had been badly hurt, the injury to his shoulder had got infected and had taken many weeks on land for him to recover fully, with the exception of the large, distinctive scar that remained across his right shoulder. His father had not been so lucky; he had perished then and there from the hit. Leis An Òr’s shoulder may have healed over time, but more significant was the unseen injury to his heart. 

Now, one would think an experience like that would have driven a young, impressionable soul to come to hate the humans and their kind that had left him with such an unfortunate tale, but to the contrary, Leis An Òr’s resentment was turned towards his own people, for he knew that he had a mother, somewhere, yet because of their ways, he would never know her. He was parentless and he needn’t have been. He had been left to grow up without a family, all because of their own customs. Customs that he could see no need for. 

His growing anger towards his world created something else. You see, the laws of the magical world are governed, mostly, by the same strict rules as ours. Everything in life is a balance, there is an equality to all things because, for things to exist, they must have an opposite. Dark must have light, lies must have truth, sadness must have joy, and the counteract of the pain and anger in Leis An Òr’s heart became passion.

Such emotion was unheard of among his kind. This was why the unions they made on land were so easily acceptable to them, why it was so easy for them to walk away and consider it a mere transaction. A deed and nothing more. 

But he had always been different. He had always _felt_ different. Even before the tragedy of his father’s passing, his elders had seen it. Leis An Òr had emotions and that was dangerous— _h_ _e_ was dangerous—and, as such, he was a liability to the colony. 

He had made a promise to his father that he would do his best to hide them. To cover them up and never let them show, or else, he knew, they both risked being banished and shunned by their community.

But when Leis An Òr’s grief took hold of his heart and gave him even more wretched feelings, that’s when he really became the trouble he was predicted to be. Leis An Òr began to question their customs, which led him to be forsaken by his peers, rejected for his bohemian ways. He shunned the notion of taking a mate by deception and swore that when he came of age, he would be going ashore in search of love, not just a maiden to be the mother of his child. 

This deeply troubled the elders, and when Leis An Òr eventually came of age they held council and it was decided. Strict lines had to be drawn for the one that was to cause faction among their people and their ways. 

He was summoned before them and told that, without fail, he was to go ashore on the seventh tide and he would be given seven days to find a maiden or his selkie skin would be taken from him forever, leaving him bound to the land appearing no more than human, never able to return to his spirit form or his folk again.

Now, Leis An Òr would not mourn becoming estranged from his people, such was the resentment and anger he felt for them now, but to never swim in his selkie form again, to take away his ability to fight with the raging tempests and find his freedom among the waves and solitude on the desolate island crags was a thought he found unbearable. 

So, not long after being handed his ultimatum, he found himself heading across the rough waters to the mainland coast from his home, for what was quite possibly the last time. He swam with determination in his gut, to defy his elders and seek his love among the people of the land. He knew not if it were possible, but he was driven by the determination to try. 

Armed only with his selkie grace and charm to offer in the hopes that there was one among the few that he could offer his heart to, and one that would give theirs in return.


	2. The First day

Leis An Òr emerged from the water on the morning of the spring tide. His people, having inhabited these waters for as far back as time could tell, knew the coastline well. Over the years they had cultured the place so as they could come and go with little suspicion. It wouldn’t do if their deeds were to be discovered. 

Just to the west of the town that Leis An Òr had decided would be his starting place, there was a deep cave in the cliffs that was only accessible from the sea and, due to the way the entrance lay, it was not obvious to anyone passing by in a boat. The selkies who had come before him had acquired it and it had become their place to keep anything they might need on land, such as clothes and tradable items—things of value that had been lost to the waves in many a shipwreck. 

Looking through the chests that he found deep inside, towards the back of the dry chamber, he picked out some clothes. A modest white shirt, and brown breeches made of fine doe’s skin. White stockings and brown leather boots with many buttons that his slender fingers struggled to fasten due to lack of practice. Finally, a modest jacket, no fancy brocade or trimmings, but it fitted him well and was a good thickness for warmth. 

He left his selkie skin in one of the chests for safekeeping then, after filling a purse with coins, he climbed into the little rowboat that was moored just inside the entrance and made his way back out to sea. It didn’t take very long before he was missing the feeling of being in the water, the boat was slow-going and took an effort to maintain its direction.

A small, crescent-shaped bay sat between the cave and the town. It was a good place to land as it was close enough to walk the rest of the way from that point. His boots splashed into the shallow tideline as he jumped out and heaved the boat ashore, hiding it behind an outcrop of jagged black rock and loosely covering it over with sods of turf. He then stood, straightened the strange clothing about his shoulders and waist and set his feet towards the east.

After a few miles, he needed to rest his aching legs. He had forgotten the last time he had used them as much. The sun was past midway above the horizon and unusually there was a warm breeze being carried across the land from the south. 

Finding a favourable patch of grass by the side of the track, he lay down on his back and stretched, flexing all his muscles bit by bit, familiarising himself with each one anew. He smiled as he looked about and saw the first of the year’s awakenings. Small flowers, open and leaning towards the sun were offering themselves to the occasional passing bee or butterfly. 

The small island nearest to where Leis An Òr had grown up was so exposed to the elements and salty sea, that very little grew there. Sea mayweed, a stubborn and tenacious plant that clung to the drift-line, was the only thing that flourished there on its shores. 

There had been a change in the air, a shift in the light. Something very subtle, but Leis An Òr knew it well. He had felt it happen many times before when each season took its leave and the following one stepped into its place. 

Leis An Òr embraced the magic of Spring that he felt all around himself and got to his feet in a more positive and determined frame of mind. He continued his journey towards the little town where he had chosen to begin his quest, reminded now that it was the season of birth and new beginnings.

Not before long, a few miles before the town, he reached a village.

The village was small. Not a place where many people lived, but it served the neighbouring farms and, like the town, it was close enough to the nearest harbour to often get travellers passing through from there too. 

This seemed like the most logical place to start. In these remote lands, the one common place where people would gather would be the inn, which is where he found himself a short while later, crossing the threshold into a cosy room and blinking his eyes to help them adjust to the contrast from the bright sunshine he had come from. 

There were a few people sat at tables that followed the edges of the room. They turned to look at him as he walked up to the bar. 

Their reaction wasn’t unexpected. Strangers were a curiosity in such close-knit communities where they all knew their neighbours. As well as that, he knew he was something else to look at. He stood a head above most in comparison. His skin was much darker than what was usual in these parts and his bright blue eyes were a stark contrast to his otherwise dark features. 

The observers took him in, then politely turned back to their drinks and company. 

“Good afternoon, sir. How can I be helping you?” a stout man said, appearing behind the counter whilst drying his hands on a cloth, eyeing him with the same curiosity as the others.

Leis An Òr smiled, his natural charm shining through. “I was hoping to find a bed for the night, do you have any rooms?”

The man smiled back, his shoulders dropping as he relaxed into a comfortable stance. “Aye, we do, would it be just yoursel’?” 

“It would,” Leis An Òr replied. 

“It’ll be cash up-front. Two shillings a night,” the man said, with a cautionary note to his tone.

“That won’t be a problem,” said Leis An Òr, taking the small purse of coins from his jacket pocket.

“Are you staying just the one night?”

Leis An Òr gave him a thoughtful look, “That would depend on whether or not I’ve landed on my feet in your fine establishment,” he mused, “so, perhaps I’ll be here for more than one night’s stay. I’m hoping to find my fortune and my fate has brought me here. Tell me, is there welcome here for me to give a little entertainment for you all this evening?”

“Entertainment, aye?” the man sent him a sceptical glance, “What sort?”

“I sing.”

He nodded, accepting his answer, “We have a regular who comes by most nights, but I’m sure he could accommodate a little… _musical_ company.” He seemed to regret his words and Leis An Òr needed to know more. 

“Oh? You don’t seem so sure. Is there something I should know?” Leis An Òr’s easy manner could effortlessly sway others into being free with their tongues. He watched the innkeeper’s apprehension lessen before he answered.

“He’s… well, he’s cordial enough. He has the most canty voice you ever heard, it’s a pleasure t’ hear him. He just likes t’ keep himsel’ t’ himsel’, like. You won’t get a conversation out of him though, and -” the man lowered his voice and leaned over the counter towards Leis An Òr, “he don’t like t’ be touched. So, my advice is, you leave the man be. He may not lay a fist on you, but I’ve seen him be quick with a knife t’ those who have harried him. He’s never laid a scratch on a soul, that I know of, mind you, but those who have been on the opposite end of that blade would never dare cross him again. Just sayin’, likes.” 

Leis An Òr nodded to tell the man he understood while wondering what would make a person behave in such a way. 

The keep pulled a ledger out from below where he stood and followed the marker with his finger to the most recent page. Pushing a pair of thin spectacles onto the bridge of his nose, he brought out an inkpot and quill and wrote in the book. Peering up, he asked, “Your name, sir?”

“L-l-l —” Leis An Òr stopped himself before he spoke his selkie name. He scoured for an alternative to put on his tongue quickly, and with his mind still on the man who would easily draw his weapon, his thoughts rifled through those words until the ‘L’ sound became a new word. “Lance!” he almost jumped in surprise at his own response. The keep’s eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing about the odd name. “The name’s Lance,” he said again, a little smoother this time, “Lance… McClain.” 

The innkeeper removed his spectacles and looked Lance up and down as if seeing him for the first time. “A McClain, aye?” 

Lance nodded, hoping he had said the right thing. He knew humans usually were known by two names—the last name being shared with their family—so he picked one of the few things he knew about his own, his mother’s family name. It was the only human one he knew. His father had let it slip once and he had latched onto this morsel and never let himself forget, although, he never did learn any more of her name. 

The man moved from behind the counter, “You’ve their height about you, right enough,” he surmised, “come, I’ll show you t’ your room.”

Lance followed as he took him upstairs and into a comfortably sized room, furnished with a good-sized bed, a wardrobe and a dresser. He moved to look out of the window, “This will do nicely. Thank you,” he said.

“I’ll leave you be, then.” he replied, “If you be needin’ anything you know where t’ find me.”

Lance smiled and nodded, “Oh! But my apologies, I forgot to ask your name,”

“It’s Tom—” he appeared taken aback, “I mean, it’s Thomas, my- my friends call me Tom,” he looked bashful about the way he was acting so familiarly with Lance, but at the same time he carried on, seeming to accept it as something quite natural, “but, well, I wouldn’t mind it so much if you called me Tom too, I suppose.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a weathered hand, a pinkish tinge colouring his cheeks. Slightly flustered, he excused himself and went back downstairs, closing his new guest’s door behind himself as he took his leave. 

Lance chuckled, recognising the way his Fuhan magic had affected Tom. It wasn’t like he was trying to do it, but he knew how easily humans reacted to it in his presence. 

All water spirits possessed it to some degree. The ability to charm and influence the people of the land. The malevolent spirits used it for their nefarious ways. The sirens were notoriously the worst of them, their song luring the fishermen to their deaths for little more reason than sport. 

Selkies possessed it to a certain degree also. It was in their looks, their charm, and they also had beautiful singing voices. His kind didn’t see themselves as malevolent, they were nothing like those dark spirits. They used their otherworldly gifts for the continuation of their species, so it was a practical use, they saw no wrongdoing. 

Lance saw it though. He saw it for the dark thing that it was. He knew it was wrong, tricking people and manipulating them without their full consent. He felt it. He hated it. But a little bit of it appeased his pride and stroked his ego when people were swayed by his presence, he could allow himself a little self-indulgence at the adoration. After all, he didn’t have to act upon it, and he knew he wouldn’t. 

It was going to cause him problems in his search for true love, especially with the limited amount of time he had, but he was just going to have to work hard at working around it. To have others see him for who he truly was.

He was full of determination, especially to spite his elders, so he refused to consider the consequences if he failed because he couldn’t let that happen. The sea was all he had. It was his home, his… everything. 

Seven days. That was what he had been given to be allowed to keep his selkie skin. His only way of being his true self. To keep himself whole. 

Lance had little to do until evening, so he made himself comfortable on the bed and slept. 

The only times he had previously slept in his human form was when it was warm enough for him to be able to remove his selkie skin and he could afford to stretch himself out in the sun without it. The nearest island to where he was raised was made of sharp rock and didn’t hold the same comfort for his naked form as the soft mattress in his room here at the inn. It was a luxury he didn’t know he had been missing in his life until he’d felt it. 

He woke at dusk, refreshed and ready to begin his evening. 

His stomach grumbled and made him aware that it had been some time since he had last eaten, so he went downstairs in search of food. 

Tom greeted him cheerily when he entered the room and arranged to bring him a plate of food upon Lance’s request. 

As the sun disappeared and the day’s work was done, The room began to get a little busier and as Lance had predicted, the customers were of the kind that he was hoping to meet. Those too old to be children but with no children themselves to tend to and keep them in for the night. 

Lance had made himself comfortable at a table that’s position naturally made him the centre of attention. As the folk began to settle around him, they made introductions and polite conversation. They were used to travellers passing by and resting for the night, so his presence was nothing out of the ordinary, but no one before him had received the attention he was getting. 

They gravitated around him, his magical charisma drawing them in, keen to have his attention. Before too long, the drink was flowing which made for a relaxed atmosphere. A few of the locals began singing, which fuelled even more drinking. Lance drank at a much slower pace, not wishing to dull his senses. He needed to keep his wits sharp to keep his focus on his task. 

There were notably more men in the room, but that didn’t mean Lance was stuck for choice. There were a few girls that caught his eye and, had he been partaking in the wishes of his people, he could have quite easily left with any of them that night, but Lance wasn’t interested in that. This was only his first night. He was going to use all the time he had available to him to find what he wanted. He was not ready to make a snap-judgement or bed the first girl to give him the glad-eye. If he was going to find love… well, that sort of thing didn’t happen at first glance, did it now?

There were a couple of girls that had made themselves comfortable at his table, and he found that he was flattered by their doting attention, but at the back of his mind he couldn’t help wonder how much of it was brought on by magic or genuine curiosity, and that irked him. 

An hour went by in which more folk had arrived, and music and song filled the air. There were some who had come with instruments, bringing fiddle, whistle, and drum to the arrangement, raising their spirits even higher.

Lance was enjoying his time among the people so much, he had almost forgotten that he had promised to entertain as well. It wasn’t until one tune had come to an end that Tom pipped up from across the room, “What about a song from our new friend? Lance? You promised me a song, aye?”

There was a round of encouragement from those in the room and Lance smiled at their ready enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll try my best,” he said, modestly, knowing that he was for sure going to win them over before his song was through. He thought of a cheery song he had learned in his youth. 

As he began to sing the jaunty tune, the room hushed, and all eyes were on him. Lance revelled in the attention and his charm seemed to hold everyone captivated. Even when the door opened and a dark-clad figure swept in the room, bringing a draft of chilly, night air in with him, no one turned to acknowledge him or looked to see who it was, which pleased him, knowing that he was the reason for their lack of interest. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw the man approach the counter and order his drink. Tom barely looked at him as he put it on the bar in front of him, his attention was focused on Lance the whole time. 

The newcomer was tall, around the same height as Lance which caught his attention. At first, his back had been turned, so all he could make out was the broad shoulders under his black cloak, and wavey tendrils of damp, black hair that crept out from around his hood, which he had kept pulled up. Lance sang on, waiting in anticipation for when this newcomer would also be drawn in by his song and inevitably turn around, but he remained with his back to him until his song was done. 

As the rest of the room erupted in cheer, he saw the man pick up his drink and make his way to a seat on the far side of the room, set aside from all the others, like it was deliberate. He stopped, placing his cup down on the table with his back still toward Lance, he lowered his hood to reveal long ebony locks that came to stop just at his shoulders. He slipped the rest of his cloak off, folded it with care and laid it over the back of his chair, he kept his black leather gloves on, before finally turning, sitting down, and making himself comfortable. 

One of the men sitting near Lance’s table called across to him, “Keith, man! You have some bonny competition tonight, here!” he gestured to Lance, who did his best to keep himself favourable and not preen too much under the compliment, no matter how hard that was. 

The dark-haired stranger looked up in acknowledgement, “Is that so, Jim?” 

Keith—Lance noted his name—looked unperturbed by the challenge. Either he couldn’t care less, or his confidence was plentiful enough to ignore it. 

Jim laughed at his stoic response and offered to buy Lance another drink, which he happily accepted. As Jim got up, the musicians began a familiar jig and a few of the revellers got out of their seats to dance. There was a girl with pretty, long, blonde hair that had been sitting next to Lance most of the evening, who asked if he knew the dance. Lance apologised and said he had not been schooled in the art of dancing. Her immediate response to this was to insist upon teaching him and left him no opportunity to refuse as she tugged him up by the elbow. 

The ones that were already up dancing made a space for them and, before long, Lance was able to pick up the pattern of the simple steps, although his frequent blunders were a cause for laughter among those watching him, which he had assumed was everyone, until he noticed that there was one set of eyes not on him. 

Keith sat at his solitary table, staring pensively into the amber liquid in front of him. 

The heat from the open fire and the warmth of the many bodies that now filled the room gave everyone rosy cheeks, and those who had been dancing returned to their seats, out of breath and giddy from the exertion. 

Lance sat back on the bench seat at his table heavily, the girl he had been dancing with had not-so-subtly forgotten to let go of his arm and had to sit a little closer to him because of it. 

From across the room, he could feel it. The steady, piercing gaze from the man with the dark hair. An air of satisfaction settled something inside Lance, thinking he had finally conquered all in the room, but when he looked across, his expression was not at all what he had been expecting. He wore a scowl that creased his forehead deeply, which made Lance wonder what he had done to deserve it.

His thoughts were interrupted by a tug on his arm, “Would you sing us another of your songs, Mr McClain?” the girl on his elbow asked, her cheeks pink and eyes wide. The rest of the room chorused in encouragement, and Lance agreed to take a turn once more.

This time he sang a ballad. A song of unrequited love for a girl who loved another. Just as the last time, the room was held captive by every note he sang. Some, he saw, subconsciously clutch their hands to their chests, experiencing the heartache as their own. He also saw that, yet again, the only person in the room that appeared indifferent to his song was the man Jim had called Keith. He was staring into his drink again, although it looked as if he were listening, at least. 

When the song came to an end, the room sounded with praise for him once again, although this time it was a little more subdued, the powerful emotion of the song still being felt by many.

The girl next to him latched onto his arm once again. “That was a fair sad song. You’ve a beautiful voice, it touched every soul in the room,” she told him wistfully, looking up into his eyes with a fondness.

He could tell how the crowd had begun to soften to him, and he was, for sure, bringing the attention to himself, just like he had intended to, but the one pocket of resistance across the room was somehow getting under his skin. 

“Not every soul,” he replied, speaking more to himself than anything, but he must have spoken loud enough to be heard.

The girl followed Lance’s line of sight, trying to find the meaning in his words until she saw Keith, who was looking back at him, a heavy scowl perched above his nose. 

“Och!” she said, “Don’t mind Keith, that’s just his nature. He likes to keep himsel’ to himsel’, aye?”

Her turn of phrase reminded Lance of the thing Tom had told him about their regular entertainer, the one who was quick with his knife, _‘He don’t like t’ be touched—leave the man be.’_ he had told him. Suddenly, things began to all fall into place.

When Tom had described him earlier, Lance had an image in his head of an elderly gent, not the handsome, young man he was seeing across from him. If Lance’s curiosity had been piqued before, it was even more so now. 

“He has no wife?” Lance asked, because, if someone who possessed looks such as he did had failed to secure himself a bride, then what did that mean for him?

“Oh, It’s not for the lack of those who would be willing,” she told him. “It’s the man himsel’ who has no interest. For years he’s been coming here. He comes, he sings, he’ll have a drink, but he doesn’t let anyone get close, and when I say close, I don’t just mean in acquaintanceship. he‘s funny about people being around him, ‘s why he always sits on his own. I’d say that’s what keeps him happy, but he always has that look about him. Always sort of sad, like he carries some great burden.”

Lance listened carefully. He wanted to know more about Keith. There was something about him. It seemed as though everyone thought similar things about him, but no one actually knew much about him. He was a puzzle, and Lance couldn’t resist the allure of figuring him out. 

He spent the rest of the night in merriment and by the end of the evening, he had succeeded in winning over their admiration and favour. 

He’d kept a quiet watch on Keith, waiting to see if he yielded any hints or clues as to what it was about him that had made him such an oddity in this otherwise friendly community. Lance had exchanged small talk with other individuals as he had mingled, but it seemed they all knew as little about the mysterious man as the next person. No one knew where he resided or what his business was, except, more evenings than not, he would appear in the bar and leave at the close, walking away down the road to the east. 

There was something peculiar about his appearance that Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on either. He had caught Keith staring over at him a couple of times. Each time they had made eye-contact, Lance had been aware of an odd sensation that the other man’s piercing gaze made him feel. Something unusual. Something not too dissimilar to fear or like the charge in the air when he plunged through the fierce waves of winter storms. Like something elemental.

Later, Lance lay in his bed looking up at the cracks in the ceiling as he pondered this and reflected on how his first day on land had gone. 

He hadn’t expected to come ashore and instantly fall in love, but perhaps a small wishful part of him had hoped it possible, and he could return to the sea and everything would be alright. He sighed, knowing that it had been too much to hope for. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of how the number of days he had left had been shortened by one already. He would wake in the morning and think of a better plan of action before he ran out of time. 

That night, he dreamt tumultuously; of deep seas and dark skies, of storm clouds and dark eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters should be published on a schedule of every 3-4 days, so be sure to subscribe!


	3. The Second Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter was delayed in being published. I thought a global pandemic was the most unexpected thing that would interrupt this fic, and then a revolution began. 
> 
> There were a lot of mixed opinions and feelings about the appropriateness of fandom content amidst such an incredibly sad and important time, so, with respect, Lex and I decided to put publishing on hold. 
> 
> I fully support the Black Lives Matter cause, and can only stress how important it is that everyone does something to help the movement and the message keep its momentum until real, meaningful changes are made. 
> 
> I also would like to say, that I appreciate that, owing to the nature of recent events which have concentrated and magnified some extreme emotions, it has been hard for some people to sustain their mental health whilst remaining active on social media. Please don't judge others by only what you know. There may be a lot of valid things that you don't know. 
> 
> It seems that now is a much more appropriate time for fandom content and BLM content to share the space on sm because we all need moments and spaces to recharge. 
> 
> I haven't used *all* of my sm platforms to promote BLM because I couldn't keep up. Instead, I focused as much as I could on my personal Twitter (one of FIVE twitter accounts I have!), which I like to keep far away from my fandom and other accounts. For me, this is the most effective way for me to participate, so I hope people that didn't see any activity on the matter from me on some platforms didn't assume I was remaining silent. This old binch was marching and protesting against apartheid in the 80s and 90s, so trust me, I care about these matters, fiercely. 
> 
> TL;DR:  
> 1) Black Lives Matter.  
> 2) Make a difference.  
> 3) Take care.  
> 4) Don't be judgy.  
> 5) I was born in the 70s.  
> 6) Go back to 4.

* * *

The fresh air and clear skies had decided to stay for another day, it seemed. 

When Lance began to come to, the brightness from the sun through his window confused him and stung his eyes, far more used to subtle murky changes in the morning light. He stretched and took a moment to reorient himself in his lesser-used body. 

Arms and legs were odd things when shorter, more purposeful appendages were your every-day normality. He rolled his ankles and flexed his hands open and shut, holding them up in the air above where he lay so he could watch them. 

He stopped himself from making a nasty mistake when he felt the urge to pee and, lifting the blankets, discovered there was more discomfort to be had waking up in his other skin. He swung his legs out of bed and sat up, the morning chill made him shiver and he sighed at the list of human inconveniences that had already formed in his head before he’d even gotten up. 

Clothes were another of those inconveniences that he supposed he would need to learn to tolerate. 

After seeing to his morning ablutions, Lance decided that there wasn’t a lot for him to do from now until the evening when he would need to start his efforts once more. The only thing he thought he could do to occupy his time was to familiarise himself with the land round about, having only knowledge of the coastline and things close to it. 

He met Tom downstairs, whom he asked if he would provide him with a packed lunch to take with him on his exploration. The innkeeper met him outside once he’d finished and, handing Lance the parcel, asked him where he intended to go.

“It would appear to be a fair-weather day to explore those hills,” he said, indicating the ones that lay to the south that steeply rolled upwards with slopes of yellow gorse and broom, and pale purple heather. 

Tom lifted his hand and traced a line with his finger in the air, “Follow thon trail there, see? ‘Tis much easier-going, for the start, anyhow.” Lance gave him a nod, “Be wary up there, though,” he warned with a frown. His voice became thick with seriousness, “there are things that live up there, _wee folk_ and their likes, ken?” he spoke as if mentioning them would call them forth and perform some act of malice, “Bog fairies, they say, are a menace. ‘Tis in their nature, t’ trick and deceive, mischief-makers, so they are! But there’s worse. You’d be wise to stay mindfu’ about the lochs,” he warned, sounding grave.

Lance inaptly chuckled at the irony of being advised to be cautious of otherworldly creatures but stopped when Tom cast him a glare that showed he was both offended and cross. 

“‘Tis no joke, and I’m tellin’ ye this for yer own good! There’re _other_ things that dwell up there, by the lochs. Big, black beasties, with eyes like pitch. They say they sing by the water’s edge and’ll tempt ye t’ come close, but if ye clap its coat yer hand’ll become stuck-fast with no release, until it’s dragged ye under the water and filled yer lungs.” 

Lance had heard of Fuathan that inhabited freshwater places, but his people knew little about them. Most magical creatures were not inclined to interact with one another. There was always mistrust as to each other’s intent and most regarded others with hostility. Lance, however, was prepared to keep an open mind. After all, he was an exception, so he liked to believe that there were other examples, like him; spirits not willing to be bound to their status quo. 

He thanked Tom for the parcel of food and the warning, then bid him a good day before starting his journey into the hills.

The path was easy-going at the start, but after an hour or so of steady climbing it petered out and the terrain became more challenging underfoot. The cracking of the dried and weathered old-growth beneath his boots did nothing to hide his presence, and on more than one occasion he noted movement from the corner of his eye that he was sure belonged to no bird or mammal found in these parts. Nothing belonging in this realm shimmered like the brief glimpses he caught, nor sounded like the odd musical whisperings that the gentle breeze brought to him as he paused to rest his tired legs. 

He sensed he was being watched. Occasionally, he tried to make peace with whatever it was, calling out a friendly, “I know you’re there; you don’t have to hide! I bid you no harm!” He had half hoped that something might have taken up his offer, although he knew if the situation was reversed, he would also be unwilling to reveal himself. One thing magical creatures did well was keeping themselves from being vulnerable. 

Despite his host’s warnings, Lance couldn’t resist the natural pull he felt towards the water. He was fascinated by the way something so familiar to him was also so different. 

Up here, the waters ran like crystalline. The sunlight danced on the surface in brilliant sparkles as it played across boulders and through weeds, descending merrily to the sea. Its smell was much more earthy, peaty. It collected hints of the flora it passed through and the minerals that filtered it. 

Lance stopped to plunge his cupped hands into the numbing flows of a trickling stream to take a drink. His tongue delighted at the crisp freshness, quite unlike anything he’d drunk before. It tasted much like its smell and reminded him of summer rain and winter snow all at once. 

He had heard tales from the elders of how some springs were regarded as sacred by land-dwellers, some were even said to have magical properties. Lance had always assumed there to be water spirits responsible for those beliefs, but after having experienced just a little of it, he began to wonder if perhaps the water itself was accountable. 

He followed the gurgling burn along the edge of the ditch which held it, up to where the land eventually began to level out. It was by no means the summit, but here the ice and meltwater’s relentless movement through the ages had carved out a huge hollow in the hillside, the perpetual flow forming a large loch. Completely surrounded by high, rocky walls, it lay mostly sheltered from the breeze and trapped the warm spring sun. 

He had only been in his human skin for a day and yet his body already craved the water. He had reached the edge of the loch before he found he had already removed his coat. Figuring there was no one around for miles and unable to resist the urge to immerse himself, he wasted little time in removing the rest of his clothing. 

The tiny waves of the shallows lapped around his ankles as he paused for a moment before walking further out. Without the practical insulation of his selkie pelt, the bitter temperatures caused an unfamiliar chill to run through him, making him consider whether or not he should continue. After a few moments of deliberation, the yearning made the decision for him and he walked farther into the depths with purposeful steps. 

Lance shivered. Perhaps it was a reaction to the familiar wash and drag of the water swirling around him or the chill, he couldn’t tell. It didn’t take long for him to become accustomed to the sting that flushed his tan skin red. Strong, proficient strokes took him into deeper waters. His ability to move so easily seemed to be a mixture of his innate Fuathan instincts and having been schooled all his life to be at one with the water, regardless of what form he was in. 

When he knew he was safely far enough away to be seen clearly, he took a deep breath and dived gracefully under the surface. It was frustrating not to be able to make the turns and twists he was more accustomed to, but the exhilaration of being submerged was enough to give him a feeling of comfort that he hadn’t realised he was missing. 

Far too soon his lungs began to burn, so with disappointment, he was forced to come up for air long before he was ready to. Once at the surface, he looked at his hands and arms before him. It was rarely he saw the effects of total submersion on his human skin, for he seldom found himself in the circumstances that called for it to occur. It was the reason he had been cautious and waited until he was far enough away to be seen with any great detail from the shore before he did it. His skin took on the silvery-grey hue that was a reflection of his other skin and he needed no mirror to know his face and shoulders would be heavily dusted with dark freckle-like markings. They would appear then fade within minutes of returning to the surface, but however brief, he knew he couldn’t risk being seen up close. 

He stretched out on his back like a starfish, allowing his natural buoyancy to keep him afloat with no effort required, and stared up at the sky. His thoughts had become melancholy as he lost himself in his reverie, contemplating what the near future held in store for him, When high upon one of the surrounding ridges, movement caught his eye. 

Panicking, despite his changing complexion being too subtle to see at such a distance, he splashed as he suddenly shifted to tread water. The beast startled and bolted. 

Lance had only caught the briefest of impressions, but what he thought he had witnessed resembled a majestic black horse with a coat so shiny and smooth that the reflecting sunlight highlighted its solid, muscular shapes in contours. Its long mane that cascaded in waves almost to its hooves had whipped around wildly in the breeze as it disappeared out of sight. Was this the creature that Tom had warned him about? 

At first, he doubted that the intention of such a thing of beauty could be malicious, but then he brushed those thoughts aside, feeling foolish, knowing full-well that inherent beauty was part of the deception of wicked spirits. As his legs circled below him, keeping him on the spot, a creeping uncertainty made him wonder whether he could trust his eyes; perhaps he had just imagined the vision. Except, he knew in truth he hadn’t. 

A quick glance at his shoulders confirmed that his complexion had returned to normal, so he swam back to where he had entered and to where his things were left waiting. Shuddering, he contemplated that he might have found respect for human clothes after all.

Lance had never had the notion to be shy of being naked, but as he dried off in the sun the idea that he could be being watched made him prickle with self-consciousness.

After dressing, it seemed like a good enough time as any to eat the food in his pack. He kept a look-out for any sign of the mysterious horse but nothing untoward happened again after that. 

Knowing there was little point in venturing any higher up the hillside with what daylight there was remaining, he made the long descent back to the village. 

* * *

The night began similarly to the previous evening, except this time he was warmly invited by the people he had befriended to come and join them at the same table they had occupied yesterday. 

Once again he limited his drinking to keep a clear head, and his newly forged popularity was beginning to pay off as he never had to pay a penny; the generous villagers offered to provide anything he wished. It didn’t take long for the music to begin, and when it did, there were requests for him to bestow upon them his talent once again. 

Lance sang them a shanty which he had learned from sailors on passing boats, his youthful curiosity always pushing him to break the rules and swim close so he could listen, when he should have been staying clear of them altogether. 

His captivated audience praised him greatly when he finished, earning him another offer of a drink. 

A cold breeze blew into the room along with a familiar tall figure wrapped in his black cloak. He made his way to the bar and lowered his hood whilst he waited to be served. 

Lance was able to pay more attention to him this time. His skin was fair, much paler in comparison to the locals who were beginning to show the effects of the recent sunshine on their sun-starved arms and faces. His complexion held a radiance that reminded Lance of oyster pearls. 

Keith took up his drink from the bar and made his way to the seat he had occupied before. Same as last time, he slipped off his cloak, folded it, and laid it over the back of the chair then sat. His brawny frame took up more of the seat than Lance remembered, which led him to casually wonder what kind of worker he was. 

As Keith settled, there was a shameful moment when Lance got caught staring. Keith’s dark gaze met his and seemed to challenge Lance with his consideration, but he could have been mistaken; Lance had looked away too quickly to be certain. A warm flush rose to his cheeks, a strange and altogether foreign sensation which he couldn’t comprehend. 

From his peripheral, Lance saw him lean back and take a drink while surveying the room. For all the discouraging tales he’d heard of this man, he still seemed to be a popular member of the community. He noted with interest how others greeted him and how he returned it, politely, in kind. 

As the room became livelier, the music led to dancing, just as it had the night before. Lance was pulled to his feet several times by girls he was now noticing were vying for his attention. Eventually, the thick, warm air in the busy room became too much, and Lance had to step outside. 

The moon was almost full, illuminating the area around him enough to be able to see objects in detail. The respite from the gaiety was welcome. From the open windows, he could hear the beginnings of another jig, accompanied by laughter and the sounds of boots tramping the floorboards in time to the fast-paced rhythm. It was a pleasing sound, he thought. Something so completely different from anything he would hear in his world. The sudden recollection of his home made his chest tighten. He missed it, or at least, he missed his own habitat. 

He looked up again at the moon. In a few days it would be full, another reminder of his marked time and how he was no further forward in his task than he had been since setting foot on dry land. Lance exhaled in dismay.

“Where remedies are needed, sighing avails not.”

Lance was startled by the sudden obtrusion. He turned to see that Keith had appeared next to him. He leaned easily against the wall and lifted his cup to his lips, looking at Lance curiously over the top as he took a sip. 

“You startled me,” Lance choked, turning his head slightly to hide his face whilst deflecting the need to explain his thoughts to a stranger. 

Keith gave him a small, courteous bow of his head, “My apologies, I wasn’t thinking,” he offered in return. He shifted his gaze up towards the moon and fell silent. 

Lance was unsure what to do. He was unfamiliar with the formalities of land-dwellers, but from what he had learned in recent days, Keith’s social graces were different from the others, which made his intentions hard to read and the stories he’d been told didn’t help this either. He looked at him to reply, but his words fell away when he saw the man’s features lit by the soft moonlight, his hair, already as black as squid ink, appeared impossibly to have turned a shade darker, his skin reflecting an almost ethereal glow. Yet again, Lance wondered why someone with such handsome features would be without a wife already. 

What he found most odd was that, normally, Lance had no trouble in striking up conversations with strangers, but with this man, he struggled to begin even the simplest of polite exchanges. There was something intimidating about him that left Lance tongue-tied.

“Is everything alright?” Keith’s unexpected question took Lance by surprise. 

“I’m not sure if I know what you mean,” he said, still deflecting anything that might make him have to explain himself. 

“Only that you seem a little… different. Out here, that is.”

Lance smiled a little. It was strange to him that someone should enquire about his well-being. He couldn’t recall a time before when it had happened with his people, and yet, here was a perfect stranger, with whom he had never previously exchanged one word, asking how he was. He looked back up at the moon, “I was just thinking of home,” he answered honestly.

“Do you miss it?” 

Lance turned his gaze to the ground, “Yes, but also no,” he responded with a chuff of dry laughter. Keith gave no reaction other than a gentle smile in acknowledgement which, by all accounts so far, was apparently something extraordinary. It was small and warm and so genuine, he found it hard to believe those people who had implied that such a thing was anomalous. 

“I’m sorry, where are my manners? My name’s Lance, Lance McClain,” he held out a hand for Keith to shake, thinking how strange it was to use his new name so readily. His hand faltered as Keith looked at it with alarm. It took Lance a second to realise his mistake—to remember that Keith didn’t like to be touched. He was about to retrieve it when Keith took it carefully in his own gloved hand and gave it a quick shake. 

“I’m Keith, Keith Kogane, pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Likewise,” he replied, then added, “Kogane? that sounds… eastern?” 

He didn’t think he’d spoken out of turn, but he noticed the way Keith bristled a little before he answered.

“My family history is complicated,” he said carefully, not by any means in a rude way, but he made it clear it was a subject he was not going to elaborate on. Lance could understand and respect that all too easily. 

“In that case, I feel like we already share some things in common,” Lance joked, trying to keep the conversation light and easy.

Keith laughed loudly at that, “I sincerely think not!” It was Lance’s turn to bristle, but he knew there was no way he could elaborate on his family situation to prove him mistaken. His hand automatically came up to touch the thin chain around his neck through the fabric of his shirt.

Keith took a long sip of his drink and went back to looking at the moon. 

Lance shivered against the chill of the cool evening breeze. The spring days could be warm, but by evening it could still drop low enough to bring a frost.

“I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Kogane, I’ll be going back indoors, now,” Lance apologised. He grimaced at the way his conversation still felt awkward and clumsy, “thank you for your company.”

“Keith,” he corrected, his voice sounding a little stilted and unsure, “please, call me Keith,” 

Lance returned the short flash of a smile that Keith gave him, “In that case, be sure to call me Lance. Thank you again—Keith.” He nodded to him, then made his way back into the bar room where he found his seat again at his regular table and was instantly greeted like an old friend, then a fresh round of drinks appeared in front of them. There were compelling demands for him to sing for them again, which he found unable to refuse. 

He never saw Keith again for the remainder of the night. If he had come back inside, he must have missed him. 

When Lance was finally allowed to retire to his room, he couldn’t wait to put his head on his pillow. He was truly exhausted and fell asleep with ease.

That night, he dreamt erratically—of black horses and heather hills, of pale moonlight and long, dark hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm a little scared to predict when the next chapter will be posted, lol! So I'll go as far as to say "as soon as possible"! Hopefully, not as long as this update.
> 
> Please, everyone, stay engaged, but also, stay safe. 
> 
> One world.  
> One Love.  
> Everyone. Go, be great.


	4. The Third Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance cannot resist the inextricable lure of the water, again (...and gets naked, again!), and he finally gets to hear Keith sing.

* * *

The next day brought a turnabout in the weather. Heavy clouds had descended over the hills and the air was cold and damp, making Lance rethink his original plan, which had been to go and explore the loch again, or perhaps what lay higher up. Instead, he found himself by the sea. 

The coastline along this part of the mainland varied between harsh rocks, steep cliffs, and coves of pure, fine sand. The cutting breeze helped to clear his thoughts as he wandered along a path without purpose for miles, reflecting on his time on land so far. 

He was disappointed in himself. Now that he had been here a few days and was no further forward in his plan, he felt like he hadn’t been trying hard enough. He _had_ been playing his part, and there were girls interested in him, for sure, however, there was no one that had taken his fancy, let alone someone worthy enough to fall in love with. He was beginning to think that perhaps he _had_ been unrealistic. The thought made him even more disappointed in himself and he hardened his resolve to prove his elders wrong.

Tonight—he would double his efforts tonight. He had laid the foundation over the last couple of nights by making himself familiar to everyone and now it was time to concentrate on his goal. 

Lance toed pebbles and played with the fresh grass flowers as he meandered along the track that followed the shore. He was trying to distract himself from the tug he felt from the water. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, something drawing him to go and be among the waves where he belonged. He ignored it for as long as he could, until he couldn’t anymore.

He was far enough away from the village and any nearby crofts to avoid anyone chancing upon him, so he picked a sheltered spot by a small sandy bay to strip himself of his clothes and wade slowly out into the murky depths. The water picked him up and dropped him down with its swaying rhythm. When he got to the point where he was floating freely, he closed his eyes and let himself be overwhelmed with the longing to dive and roll with the tide. 

He couldn’t lose this. This was all he knew; this was where he belonged. If he became separated from the sea, that which would remain of him on land would feel incomplete. There was nothing that he could think of that would be able to replace what he would lose. 

He pushed himself up then ducked beneath the waves into the freezing water. With strong arms he pulled himself down, over, and over, his limbs and lungs burning until he could fight against it no longer. Defeated, he twisted his head towards the surface and surrendered himself to the upwards pull. 

When he emerged, he filled his lungs with air before releasing it with all his emotions in a single noise that was neither human nor selkie. It was anger and frustration; it was heartache and yearning. 

The sound broke off in his throat and was replaced with a sob, his tears lost in the roiling waters surrounding him. When his father had died he’d thought he felt alone, but it was nothing in comparison to the loneliness he felt now. 

His anguish was abruptly cut short by a noise that had sounded like a response, coming from the direction of the shore. He searched for the source, squinting to help him discern any details, being unable to see with clarity this far from the land. Then he caught sight of movement, and even from this distance, he could tell exactly what it was. 

On the crest of a cliff to the west, it stood. The solid figure of a great, black horse, its long mane and tail being lifted by the wind and making it flare uncontrollably all around it. It was a formidable sight. 

Lance stilled—selkie-like in the water, with only his head just visible. This time the creature didn’t bolt right away. It lingered as if watching him, before it neighed once more and sprang into a canter, pushing off with a solid kick of its powerful back legs, and then it was gone. 

It had to have been the same horse he’d seen the day before; it was too much of a coincidence to be anything else. As to why he’d encountered it two times in as many days, Lance couldn’t fathom a reason. 

He made his way back to the beach and got dressed quickly, this time having no warm sun to dry himself under, then headed back the way he’d come to return to the village. 

* * *

When Lance entered the bar that evening it seemed busier than it had been in the last few nights. Tom called a welcome to him and began to pour him a drink before he’d reached the counter. There were other greetings as he accepted the offer to sit himself down at the table he was now familiar with. 

He made himself comfortable, and as he relaxed in his seat and took a mouthful of his drink, he looked around the room and was surprised to see Keith already in his place by the fire, his face partially hidden by his hair that hung loose in damp tendrils. It struck Lance that his appearance was exactly the same as it had been on the previous evenings. 

It took a while longer than it had done before for the revelling to start. By the time it began, the room was too full for the accustomed dancing. This meant there were more calls for him to sing, and each time he did, the room fell silent. His audience was completely wrapped up in his spellbinding performance, all except Keith, who spent his time with his eyes trained on the surface of the table before him. He wondered why he hadn’t heard Keith sing. For all that his reputation came before him, Lance was still to hear it for himself. 

When his song was done and the cheers and compliments had settled, he kept his eye on Keith’s dark presence, watching, and trying to figure him out. He was a puzzle for sure. There was nothing about him that told of who he was; no apparel that spoke of the means by which he earnt his living. The very least that he could fathom was that they were maybe about the same age. He had no strong accent to determine his past. Only his complexion and a shape about his features which reflected his foreign lineage, but other than that, he was incomprehensible. 

Lance, ever curious, despite the trouble it caused him sometimes, was finding himself wanting to know more. He wouldn’t be able to leave it to rest. 

He turned to a girl in his company, the same girl who had been attached to his side almost since the first evening, and asked her if there was a reason that Keith hadn’t sung since he had arrived. 

She shrugged and cast a look across the room at him. “He does what he wants, I suppose,” she answered. This did not satisfy his intrigue in the slightest. Lance frowned. 

“Does he sing for money or pleasure?” 

The girl shrugged again. “No one kens much about him and he doesn’t offer much of himself up.” Her tone, along with the face she briefly made, revealed a little bitterness. Lance understood then that she was carrying a flame for him, but her affections were obviously unreturned. This only pressed him to seek more understanding of the reticent man

“Does he live in the village?” He found it strange that so little be known about him. The elders had warned him about village folk, the tendency for everyone to have their noses in everyone’s affairs, so Lance thought it most odd that they didn’t even have knowledge of the most basic details of his presence. 

“Nay, he must live outside of the parish boundaries to the east. He always arrives here on foot by the road that leads from that direction.”

Well, that would account for the lack of gossip, but he found it hard to believe there was _nothing_ known about him, other than his objection to being touched. 

“He’s quite the mystery,” Lance mused to himself, although the girl heard him and laughed in a short, derisive way as if she felt giving Keith any more thought was a waste of time. She lifted her chin in the man’s direction and shouted over to him, 

“Hoy! Keith! How come we’ve not heard your sweet voice in a while?” her question came out in an odd mixture of sarcasm and flattery.

He lifted his head without urgency and swept his attention across to those at Lance’s table. His lips lifted into a polite smile, “I was thinking there was entertainment enough already,” he said, taking a careful swig from his cup. 

“Nonsense! Your singing is duly missed! Will you sing something for us now?” 

He settled his cup carefully back on the table, his fingers brushing over the sides of it as if in thought and his smile became a little more genuine than it had been initially.

“If you wish,” he said, not looking at the girl, but instead at Lance, as he replied.

Keith softly cleared his throat in preparation and the room hushed with anticipation. It was as if the whole world had stopped turning to allow the man his time to sing. And when he began, Lance could understand why. 

Keith sat up straight with his eyes closed, his gloved fingers interlaced in front of himself and his elbows resting on the arms of the chair either side of him. He sang with a sound that was so beautiful and pure, Lance had never heard the likes of. The words of the song were in an unfamiliar language, but the melody and tone were universal, with the slow tempo of a lament, in a pitiful-sounding key. This song, for sure, was about love, the kind of love that’s wished for, whether of a homeland or a person, but all the same, something that was out of reach. 

It wasn’t until after Keith had finished that he realised how enraptured he had become. When Keith finally opened his eyes once again, Lance was suddenly aware that he had been left staring wide-eyed and slightly agape, making him look away quickly with embarrassment.

Lance took a large gulp of his drink before giving his applause along with everyone else. He felt his skin prickle and he pulled at his collar thinking it too tight, only to find it was quite loose. 

For the rest of the evening, Lance never sang again and neither did Keith. He couldn’t explain what he felt, but there was something there, pressing into his thoughts. As if Keith’s song were an incantation that had disrupted some natural rhythm inside him. Whatever it was, he felt off-kilter and unable to shake it from his mind. 

When he eventually retired for the evening, he lay awake for a long time, unable to sleep for the thoughts of why he couldn’t put his finger on what it was he had felt. 

That night, he dreamt frustratedly—of two paths before him, and being unable to breathe, of diving, and falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the comments 🥰 I always feel so humbled to receive them, even just emojis (I honestly LOVE emoji comments!), and it's encouraging to know you're all itching to know more! 💜💜
> 
> I was glad to have this chapter up without too much of a delay this time, fingers crossed it'll be about the same for the next one.


	5. The Fourth Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his time dwindles and he is faced with the increasing possibility of losing his objective, Lance decides to try a different approach in his search for love. Far enough away from the sea and lochs, the town sounds like an ideal place to avoid distractions...

* * *

On the fourth day as Lance woke, turbulent, anxious thoughts flooded his mind. Truth seeped into his consciousness like the dawning, spring sun that found its way through the gaps of the heavy drapes that covered the window. He was now more than halfway through his allotted time, and he was no closer to finding love than he had been on his first day.

He chastised himself for his lack of discipline and made a vow to bring things back into his favour. He needed a change of approach. Providing entertainment at the inn was proving to be the wrong course of action, and spending his days frivolling away his precious time pining for the sea was a counterproductive move if he was ever to have hope of returning there. 

By midmorning, he had found his way along the main road that ran east towards the market town. It had been a long but undemanding walk, although the weather had changed again and already the heat from the sun, unchallenged by clouds, was making him parched and weary. 

The stalls and barrows in the marketplace were a welcome sight; Lance immediately set about looking for something appetising. Since coming ashore, Lance had found there was a certain pleasure in discerning what sorts of human food he enjoyed, and that which he didn’t. 

He was admiring a selection of freshly baked goods when, without warning, someone beside him spoke. 

“I highly recommend those.” An accompanying gloved hand pointed helpfully at a selection of pies with pretty crimping around the edge. 

Lance was surprised at first, but when he realised who it was, he turned with a smile. 

Keith was not dressed in his now-familiar cloak. Today, he wore a fine-looking, well-fitted black coat adorned with golden buttons. 

“Well, in that case, if they are held by yourself in such high esteem,” he turned to the vendor, “I’ll take two of those, please.”

Keith said nothing more, he simply watched and waited for Lance and the pieman to exchange money and goods. When they were done, Lance began to meander along to the other stalls and Keith followed. Lance felt oddly uncomfortable at the long stretch of silence that lingered between them and was relieved when Keith finally spoke again.

“How are you enjoying your stay at the inn, is it comfortable enough?”

It was a polite enquiry, a conversation starter, almost as trivial as remarking on the weather, but Lance sensed something in the way Keith spoke that suggested making idle chit-chat did not come naturally to him. 

“I don’t have much experience in other people’s beds, but I must say, it is far softer than anything I have slept on before, thank you for asking.” Lance took satisfaction in his own humour, slipping the truth right under Keith’s nose without him knowing was delightfully funny to him, so when Keith began to laugh at his reply, he was a little confused. Upon reflection, what he had said could have been taken to have a different meaning, which would explain Keith’s reaction. He hoped that his cheeks were no more flushed than what had already been brought on by the heat of the sun. 

“That’s good to know,” Keith said with an air of ambiguity, “If that is so, then I am to assume you have only just begun your travels.” It was a question more than a statement, so Lance simply nodded. “Then, I am intrigued as to where your journey began.” 

Again, it was merely polite conversation, but it was touching on details that Lance would rather avoid answering. He tried to stick to the truth as much as he could, which afterwards, he realised, might have been a mistake. 

“Oh, some miles north from here,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction with a loose wave of his hand. Keith’s brows shot up in surprise. Understandably so, as everything north from where they stood was more or less endless sea. “That is to say, I come from an island that’s quite some miles from here. It has but a small population, which is why I left, to, um, broaden my horizons, to... seek my fortune, and all that.” Lance felt a touch of embarrassment; it felt different telling Keith the same lie he had spun to others in recent days.

“Well, in which case, I wish you luck in your endeavours,” Keith responded, with a warm smile and a nod. 

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. They continued down the street at a gentle pace, taking in all the different traders and their wares. Lance began to feel uncomfortable again, the need to say something, to continue the conversation they had begun felt necessary, but at the same time, he was reluctant to discuss anything too personal that might reveal more about himself than he was willing to give away.

Just as Lance was about to begin speaking, there was a shout from the other side of the marketplace which stole Keith’s attention.

A boy of maybe nine or ten came running towards them, his curly auburn hair bouncing as he did. For a moment Lance thought he was going to barrel right into Keith, but he stopped short in front of him, just in time. The boy stood smiling broadly, catching his breath from his short burst of energy, then waited, looking expectantly at Keith. 

A genuine smile broke across Keith’s face, “John! How goes you today?” he asked, and then in a slightly lowered tone, “Have you reached chapter eight, yet?”

The boy, John, nodded fast and then looked a little sheepish, “I even started chapter nine, but ma caught me and took away the candles,” he confessed. Keith admonished him with a click of his tongue and he shook his head disapprovingly, his dark brows were pulled together a little too much, which told Lance he wasn’t as serious as he was making out to be. 

“I don’t want you getting into trouble, and you’ll hurt your eyes reading so late without proper light. If you keep that up, how will you be able to read so much when you’re older and your eyes have stopped working so well?” 

John looked down at his feet, toeing the ground with his hands clasped behind himself, “You’re right, I ken I shouldn’t… but I just really needed to know what happened to Captain Holt! They were making him walk the plank and I couldn’t just put my head down and sleep when there was a man facing his death!” He spoke so fast, Lance struggled to keep up with what he was saying, although, that which he did catch made no sense to him.

Keith chuckled. As if sensing Lance’s confusion, he explained, “He’s reading _The Adventures of Captain Holt,_ ” Whatever Lance’s expression held in response must have told the man looking at him that he was none the wiser. Keith looked a little taken aback, “You’ve not read it?” 

Lance took a second to find his voice. It was the first time he’d been faced with a situation that could possibly expose him as being ‘different’ and he didn’t know how to respond. He fought back the sense of rising alarm, but before he had a chance to rescue himself, Keith’s expression changed to one of understanding, and said, “I guess not everyone shares our taste in adventure books, John.” He turned back to the boy to share a look with him. Keith’s tone was not scathing, but relaxed and nonchalant, as if it really made no difference if he did or didn’t share their tastes. 

The simple truth of the matter was, Lance had never read any books; he didn’t even know how to read. 

He’d heard his people mention that the folk of the land were able to put their tales down in books (a concept just as strange to him as ‘writing’) which meant they were able to share stories and take them in at their leisure, but he found such a thing so very hard to imagine. He had never felt so far from the comfort of his normality before now.

“Perhaps I might lend it to you once I am done, Mr…?” 

“McClain.” Keith provided helpfully, noticing that Lance was having trouble answering the boy’s prompt as habitually as he should. “My apologies; Master John Ferguson, May I introduce Mr Lance McClain? Mr McClain, Master Ferguson.”

Lance at once offered the young boy his hand, which he dutifully accepted and they shook hands cordially, “Pleased to meet you,” Lance said, “it sounds like this tale you are enjoying is a good one, if it is worth getting into trouble for.” 

“Keith—uh, Mr Kogane—” he said, suddenly realising his impropriety in the way he was addressing someone senior with so much familiarity, “he knows all the best books, sir. I’m truly fortunate to have him teach me how to read and wr—Oh!” John stopped talking when he received a subtle look from Keith. John looked worried. “S-sorry, Mr Kogane.” 

Keith’s look softened. “No harm done, John. Mr McClain here is just travelling through and will soon be on his way, I’m sure we can trust him to keep the knowledge of our arrangement to himself before he does, hmm?” Keith gave Lance a questioning look. 

There was a hint of playfulness hidden within the outer creases of his eyes, and it struck Lance how different he was now from the scowling thing he had seen on his first night at the inn. If the accounts of Keith’s demeanour he had heard so far were true, it would seem that what he was witnessing now was somewhat of a rarity. Lance looked to John and dragged his index finger twice in a cross over the spot on his chest where his heart would be, “I shall take it to my grave,” he said in his most serious voice, then flicked his eyes up to meet Keith’s, mirroring his playful look in return.

Keith blinked for a moment in response, then spoke to John, “No more reading late into the night! You need to be doing as you’re told. Which reminds me; I heard you and Malcolm were caught in the millpond, _again_.”

John’s cheeks reddened and he tried to hide his face. “Och, we were fine, we both can swim. It’s just Mr Rafferty doesn’t like me,” he protested, mumbling.

Keith was quick to correct him, “Sure, you can both swim, but that pond isn’t safe. You know fine well about the fuathan around there, are you trying to put yourselves in danger?”

The boy looked up at Keith, head tilted and eyes squinting, “I ken fine well that those things are just stories to scare the wee ones from the water.”

Lance gave a short gasp. He looked from one to the other, “They most definitely are not stories! There are many things that exist beyond our knowledge and to dismiss them so flagrantly is a dangerous thing to do! If there are rumours of fuathan in this millpond, you and your friend must heed them well, for there is always a grain of truth behind each and every one of them.”

John looked a little taken aback at Lance’s conviction, but there was obviously an air of doubt still there, as his eyes narrowed again and he pressed Lance for more. “I’ve never met anyone that has seen one for themselves, but you speak as if you have, Mr McClain. Have you, aye?”

The question made Lance falter, which, to the boy, must have appeared as good as an admission that he was making these things up, however, it was more the case that Lance was struggling to figure out what to say to prove he was right, but at the same time, not reveal the fact that John was standing in the very presence of one as they talked. He attempted to choose his words carefully.

“I have seen many things in my years that I have had no explanation for; things that have given me much to fear, as well as those that have given me great delight, but whether you believed me or not wouldn’t make them any less real. You really should trust Mr Kogane and Mr Rafferty, if they are looking out for your welfare and they believe these spirits to be ill-meaning.”

The youngster listened thoughtfully to Lance’s speech but still looked a little disbelieving. His next question took an unexpected tangent. “So, there are fuathan that are good?” 

Feeling defensive, Lance answered without hesitation, “Of course!” 

“Then, the fuathan at the mill might be the good kind?”

Lance had an uneasy feeling that his answers were being used by the boy to defend his actions, which was the opposite of Lance’s intention. 

Whilst Lance tried to think of an appropriate response, Keith cleared his throat, “I find it refreshing that Mr McClain keeps such an open-mind regarding the integrity of such spirits, however, I feel that, without knowledge of the intent of such creatures from another realm, one should err on the side of caution and not put one’s self unnecessarily in the potential path of danger.” he frowned at John again, but his voice softened to something quite fond, “Just… please stay away from the water, will you? Both of you?”

John gave him an awkward smile and a half-hearted nod. 

“Good lad,” said Keith, “now, off you go and finish your chores. The quicker you have them done, the more time you will have to read _before_ it gets too dark.”

John grinned at that and began to sprint away in the direction from which he had come before quickly turning back and calling, “see you soon, Kei- Mr Kogane! Nice to have met you, Mr McClain!” Then he disappeared into the crowd.

“He seems like good company,” Lance remarked, once they began walking again. Keith hummed in agreement. The selkie’s insatiable curiosity led his thoughts to ask, “So, tell me, are you a tutor?” It made sense if he had been teaching the young lad to read and write, but what he couldn’t grasp was why the villagers knew nothing of this and why it appeared to be a secret to be kept between the two of them—well, three, now. 

Keith shook his head. The ends of his hair, which was today pulled back into a tail, brushed the turned-down collar of his coat with the movement.

“Master Ferguson is an exception. He is a bright lad and a quick scholar. He lacked in his education and I had the means to educate him. In exchange, I get the satisfaction of helping him realise his potential for being a smart and successful man when he’s older,” Keith mused, “—and the good company, as you said. His thirst for adventure is inspiring, he reminds me a little of myself when I was his age.”

Lance couldn’t disagree. It was encouraging to see how excited John had become when talking about the book. “So, why such a clandestine arrangement?”

“His parents,” Keith answered, frankly. “They are not the sort to encourage imagination, or ideas of doing anything more commendable than the farm work his family have been doing for generations. Being their only son means he carries the burden of responsibility to maintain his family's holding when they are too old to do it themselves.” Keith’s gaze dropped downwards, his thoughts and feelings on the matter were clear in his actions, however, he quickly changed the focus of the conversation.

“So, Mr McClain,” Keith looked up at him with a fresh look as he mimicked the way they had been addressing each other just before, “if not _The Adventures of Captain Holt_ , what captures your imagination in a book?” 

Caught off-guard, Lance turned away, pretending to look at some pretty ribbons at the stall beside him until he could bring himself around again to answer. “I have no particular favourites.” It was a noncommittal reply to cover up the fact he had never seen a storybook, much less touched one.

“Oh, come now! Surely there’s something you’ve read that sticks to mind? Or…” Keith looked like he had reached a conclusion and slowly smiled as he tapped his bottom lip, “You sing such pretty songs—songs of love,” Keith clarified, “perhaps your interests lie more in romance?” his tone lightly teased.

Lance tried to speak too quickly in defence and ended up choking on his words. What appeared to be a guilty response made Keith laugh, a twinkling of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “If you are able to keep my secret, then I promise to keep yours; is that a fair deal?”

Lance managed to briefly compose himself, but hearing Keith’s misplaced assumption irritated Lance, and so, to exonerate himself, he replied without thinking. “For your information, I have never read a single romance story! Even if I could read, I imagine I would also spend my time with adventures!”

Keith came to a halt. Lance turned to see what for, and the look of astonishment he caught on Keith’s face confused him. By the time Lance figured out the reason, it had disappeared, replaced by a look of guilt, before his expression settled on one of piqued inquisitiveness. 

Lance shifted around where he stood, wondering what to say. He supposed there were many possible reasons he could pick as an excuse as to why he was illiterate, it wasn't uncommon, but, at that moment, they all escaped his mind. However, in the end, he didn’t need to provide a lie because Keith never asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with romance novels, Lance. In fact, I’m unashamed to say that I read them myself.” 

The fact that Keith chose to comment on his supposed aversion to romance novels, and not the confession of being unable to read, confused Lance at first, but then he laughed; partially in relief, but also because of the amusing way that he’d unexpectedly pulled a confession from the secretive man himself. 

Keith brightened and joined in with a light laugh of his own. As it faded, Keith’s smile remained, and he seemed to have a thought. He went to speak, then paused like he was thinking better of whatever it was, before going ahead and asking anyway. 

“Did you have somewhere to be this afternoon, Mr McClain?”

“Please, it’s Lance,” he corrected him, “And I had nothing in particular planned. Is there a reason you ask?”

For the first time since meeting him, Keith looked a little nervous. “Would you object to a little company? There’s something I’d like to share with you, if you’d be willing?” There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes which Lance couldn’t bear to disappoint, so he agreed. 

The smile crept back on Keith’s face and all at once, he appeared full of energy. “Excellent! Come! Follow me!” he called, before turning and heading towards a shop on the corner of the thoroughfare. 

Lance was somewhat taken aback, but quickly caught up with him. He didn’t have time to ask what they were doing before he found himself being ushered into the shop by Keith, who held the door open for him. 

A little bell above the door tinkled as Keith closed it behind them and he found himself surrounded by shelves upon shelves of what he guessed were storybooks. The room had an odd smell, like woodsmoke, and damp, with a hint of something sweet combined. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, and its uniqueness was a puzzling curiosity to Lance. He stood to the side as Keith exchanged pleasantries with the shopkeeper, then he watched as Keith focused on the shelves, searching until he picked one. After making his purchase, Lance followed him out into the street. 

Keith said nothing, so without further instruction, Lance trailed along after him once more, the mystery of Keith's intentions kept him amused. As if Keith had sensed this, he said, “Just one more stop before we’re on our way,” and indicated across to a stall selling bottles of refreshments. After collecting two, Keith set off at a rather quick pace along the road out of the town. Lance had to work his under-used legs to keep up. 

“If I may ask, where exactly are we going?” Lance wasn’t worried, he was more nervous with anticipation.

“Not too far, just a little way up and around that hill,” he said, pointing as he spoke. 

The day had gotten hotter, and they did not speak until they had reached the point that Keith had been aiming for. 

As they rounded the summit of the hill, Lance looked in wonder. The view was almost overwhelming. Lance had spent so long in the sea that he had never chanced to observe it from this perspective before. The nearest land to his home was little more than a protrusion of rocks. It was an island only a mile or so long, but it barely rose out of the water. 

Up here, though, Lance felt like he was flying. Like how he had imagined it might look to the gulls that he had watched for years, soaring up above and hinting at where he could find shoals to hunt. 

Up here, the sea looked calm and peaceful. The sun sparkled and glinted across the surface giving it pretty highlights that were deceptive of the dark, fearsome depths that hid below. 

Up here, it was like another world. 

It wasn’t until Keith’s chuckle distracted him, did he realise he had been standing with his mouth agape for quite some time. Embarrassed, he looked away, but that only seemed to encourage Keith some more. 

“I guess you appreciate the view as much as I do, then,” he assumed. 

Unable to keep his eyes from being drawn back to the scene before them, Lance looked out across the expanse of water and nodded for lack of appropriate words. Keith wandered over to a comfortable patch of ground and settled down to sit with his arms looped around his open knees that were half drawn up to his chest, his hands clasped together. He looked across at the sea as well, but after a minute or two, he turned to Lance and offered the space next to him for him to sit. Lance accepted, and the pair of them sat for a while like that, just absorbing the panorama before them. 

That is until Lance’s stomach rumbled with a sound akin to distant thunder. 

Keith had the good grace not to laugh at him again, but did smile, letting him know that he had heard it. Lance ignored him by bringing out the two pies from his coat pockets, where he had just managed to fit them inside. He offered one to Keith, who took it gladly, with thanks. “Here,” he said, offering Lance one of the bottles he had bought, then uncorked his own and tipped his head, gulping down half of it in one go. 

Lance was inexplicably drawn to him as he did, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, but then his eye caught something at the top of his shirt where it was pulled open in relief against the heat. Just visible was what looked like lengths of leather, wound in loops around his neck, too thick to be a simple thong, the kind of which might be used to bear some valuable possession like a key, or suchlike. 

He turned his attention to his own bottle when he saw Keith dropping his head back down, not wishing to get caught looking where it would seem to be impolite. However, just like the songs of the sailors, his fascination and inquisitiveness were so great, he knew it would be interrupting and distracting his thoughts without resolve. 

Lance’s fingers absently brushed against a spot where he could feel the chain that sat hidden beneath his shirt. He let it remind him that he had his own secrets and how important it was that they should never be found out. With that in mind, he appreciated that he needed to respect others' privacy, and pushed any speculations aside. 

He found himself distracted anyway, the second he bit into his pie. He moaned in delight at the delicious burst of flavours in his mouth. Then, with shame, he glanced sideways, expecting to see a disapproving look at his ill manners. Instead, Keith looked proud of himself, raising an eyebrow in query.

“Should I assume from your reaction that my recommendation meets your approval?” he quipped, knowingly. 

It made Lance smile and feel a little more at ease in the man’s company. 

He wondered why people thought Keith to be of a disagreeable nature. He had been warned not to expect conversation from him, and yet, from what he had experienced during the time he had spent in Keith’s company, nothing could be further from the truth.

They sat, companionably, watching nature move around them, unperturbed by their presence, while they ate and drank.

When they were done, Keith lay down on his side, stretching himself into a comfortable position with his head propped on his elbow, facing Lance. He pulled out the book and carefully opened it. 

Keith’s fingers, dressed in leather as they always were, slid the first few pages across from one side to the other. 

Lance waited with anticipation, but for what, he did not know. All he knew was this was something new. 

Keith skimmed over the mysterious black marks. Without looking up from the page, he cleared his throat a little and said, “I was wondering, if you’d like—if I may, that is... would you mind if I shared with you a little of this adventure?” his speech floundered and he began to talk hurriedly, “but only if you’d like, I’d understand if—”

“No-no-no! Please do! I’d be delighted!” Lance couldn’t get his words out any quicker. Keith lifted his head and smiled as Lance turned to lie down on his front, chin propped up on the heels of his hands, his enthusiasm barely concealed. 

“Alright, then I’ll begin...” 

Encouraged by Lance’s eagerness to listen, Keith read chapter after chapter, until the sun was no longer on them, and the shadow they now sat in brought a breeze cool enough to make Lance shiver.

The adventure beneath Keith’s fingers was brought to a halt and he blinked at Lance as if he had just woken from a dream. The change in light, along with the proportion of coastline that was now swallowed up by the high tide, made it apparent how long they had been lying there and how late in the day it had become. 

Lance blinked back, seeming to understand Keith’s moment of confusion, sharing the same wonder of where the last few hours had vanished to. 

“I’m sorry—” they both said in unison, then they laughed, shaking their heads in reply to each other’s apology. 

“I suppose we really should be making our way back,” said Keith, as he stood and stretched his back and limbs.

“Are you headed back to the inn?” Lance was keen to know. 

Keith nodded, “If we walk smartly, we should make it there with some time to spare for supper.”

At the mention of food, Lance began to feel hungry again, and was motivated to get back sooner, rather than later. 

Once more, they walked in silence, but now there was something quite pleasant in their shared quietude. By the time either of them spoke again, they had reached the road. 

It was Lance that started the conversation this time. He was torn between his naturally inquisitive nature and not wanting to pry too far into Keith’s private affairs. 

“Have you lived around here for a while, then? The people here seem to know you quite well,” he observed, although, ‘quite well’ wasn’t really that well at all. They seemed to know more _of_ him, than much _about_ him. 

Keith’s brows furrowed together, considering his answer carefully, “I’ve been around long enough, for sure,” was all he would divulge, and Lance didn’t want to broach the subject any more than Keith was willing to allow. “What of your own plans? Will you be moving on soon?” 

Lance took a moment. “It depends. I like it here, but that decision may be out of my hands, there are things... things that are... complicated.” Keith had the good grace to not press the matter any further. 

For the remainder of the journey, their conversation was easy-going. As it was increasingly apparent that neither was willing to discuss themselves forthright, they settled into a thoughtful discussion on the story that Keith had been reading to him earlier. 

As the inn came into view, Lance felt a little disappointed that they had reached it so soon. He was enjoying Keith’s company so much that he was dispirited at the prospect of having to return to the company of others. He would have been quite content to remain solely in Keith’s companionship for the remainder of the evening. However, as he pulled open the door of the cosy little room, he was sharply reminded again of the reason he was here. 

The changed strategy to his mission had been completely forgotten about. He cursed himself for losing yet another precious day. Time was running out, and he had thrown away a good portion of the little he had remaining with Keith. 

A part of him also wanted to ask forgiveness of himself, because despite how it had affected his plans, he couldn’t bring himself to fully regret how he had spent the day. For the first time in a long time, he had felt without burden. He couldn’t deny how much he had enjoyed himself and it had brought him a sense of happiness and inner peace that had been absent in him for what felt like forever. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when some of the familiar locals hailed him from their table and beckoned him to come join them. There was no similar invitation for Keith, but he didn't seem to mind and went to sit in the chair by the fire, as usual.

They were given a few looks, curious glances from Lance to Keith, as if they were trying to work something out, but no one said a word. 

Lance supposed it _was_ rather odd. By all accounts, Keith was someone that rarely spoke, and most certainly appeared to not befriend anyone. To witness the two of them entering together must have raised a few questioning thoughts, although, there was nothing to say it was little more than coincidence. Except, perhaps, if Lance had been seen in Keith's company when he was in the town. 

The conversation around the table turned to him as he was brought his supper. The folk asked if he had had a pleasant day and if he had enjoyed the fine weather. He answered kindly, but in all his replies he neglected to mention Keith’s part in any of it. he was unsure of his motives for doing so, but something instinctual told him to keep that detail to himself. Perhaps it was to protect Keith’s privacy, or maybe he just wanted to save their time together as a special memory, something pleasant to reflect on in years to come. 

As the night progressed, the merriment and song flowed effortlessly. All thoughts of the day were quickly forgotten as Lance was called upon to sing and, being in such light spirits, his song was sweeter than ever. A song of two lovers, woven together by fate to be together forever, in this life and the next. 

As before, the adoration for him grew, and he was not spared from the flirtatious compliments of the girls who now seemed to be competing for his attention. 

The interest shifted away from him when Keith rose from his seat and cleared his throat. A hush fell and he began to sing a beautiful melody, his voice high and clear in a way that was somehow different from the way he spoke. 

Everyone stilled as they listened, Lance included, and there were many fond smiles directed at the man as he performed. This time he sang in English; a song of a boy lamenting for someone unattainable, a tale of forbidden love that could never be realised, an outpouring of emotions that would stay hidden, and which he would carry to his grave. 

Lance tried to avoid looking at Keith whilst he sang, but it was an effort because it seemed Keith had his eyes fixed on him. When he reached his final note, the room gave him ready applause, and he smiled back at their compliments, but none as bright as the one that seemed to be directed towards Lance. 

At first, Lance was unsure of what was meant by it, but when he saw how the attention of the room had shifted from himself and was now focused on Keith, he began to perceive that it was some kind of provocation. Was Keith preening? That was it! It now made sense. Keith was trying to win back his gift of being able to charm an audience with his voice, and he was laying down the gauntlet for Lance to pick up. 

It unbound something inside of Lance. Some part of him that always felt the need to rise to a challenge, the need to prove himself, and he laughed inwardly as he considered that Keith was an unwitting fool to try to out-sing a fuath. He almost felt guilty, knowing Keith would inevitably fall short in his attempt to try. 

From that point on, Lance felt more alive than ever before. He worked his magic so hard, he could feel it thrumming under his skin, as everyone in the room fell under his spell anew. His triumph was short-lived, however, when Keith countered his performance with an outstanding one of his own, leaving him a little incredulous that those present appeared to be in his favour once again. 

Their battle of voices could have lasted until dawn if Tom had not called time when he did. The hour was indeed late, but regardless of the fact, everyone seemed reluctant to go home. Their company thinned as they began to take their leave, calling their farewells as they went. Lance felt a smile steal his expression as he cast one last look back at Keith, who was finishing up his drink.

Lance wasn’t sure what it was, but there had been some kind of emanation building between them all evening. The thrill of their unspoken contest and the responding delight of their audience filled him with vibrant energy. When he saw Keith smiling back at him, it conjured a reaction inside of him which resembled the same desire that compelled him to defy the raging waves of a tempest.

When he lay in bed that night, restless with surplus energy, he realised that he had failed, yet again, in his objective. Once more, he had lost focus in favour of Keith. 

He had only three days left, and he was alarmed, more so now than ever, that he was drifting further from what he had come ashore to do. 

That night, he dreamt ardently—of nautical adventures, and an ebony-haired pirate captain, of mill ponds, and glittering reflections.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the extra-long wait for this update! I've had a lot of life ups and downs lately, as I'm sure most of you have as well. Things are slowly getting back on an even keel, however, I have quite a lot of writing to catch up on. My daughter was identified as having been in close contact with someone in her school who tested positive for COVID-19 and has to self-isolate for now. As a result, I've had to close my business, again, but this time around, I'm determined to get lots of writing done, so fingers crossed. (My daughter has so far been asymptomatic, in case any of you were concerned!)
> 
> My focus will now be on the two zine pieces I'm submitting to the Honeymoon Around the World zine (SFW and NSFW) before I can get stuck into posting the remainder of this fic, and work on Front and Centre, which I'm missing so much!😭
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and were suitably shouting at Lance to recognise the nature of his feelings! 
> 
> I'm sorry I've not been able to get around to responding to everyone's comments, but they are all lovingly appreciated and I will try to find the time to reply to them all soon, I promise!
> 
> Thank you all, so much!  
> Caz.


	6. The Fifth Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Once again, Lance realised his mind had become distracted by Keith. He chose instead to wonder how he might go about his time in the town. He would begin in the market street and then progress through the shops._   
>  _It seemed like a good arrangement, but then Lance found himself surprised and distracted yet again, for there, up ahead by the side of the road, was no other than Keith._
> 
> Oh, Lance! You poor, sweet, selkie boy!

* * *

The next morning, Lance woke much later than he had intended. It took him some time to summon the energy or motivation to bring himself from his bed. He had found the task easy on the previous days, as both the prospect of finding love and the worry of losing his selkie skin had pressed him to start his day early, so as to grant him as many hours as possible. However, today he stayed tired and his head was groggy. 

Eventually, though, he pressed himself to get up and ready himself to start anew. He decided to go into town once more and amend the mistakes he had made yesterday. This time he would not be distracted, and he would concentrate on mingling and meeting as many people as possible. This was his best bet, and he tried to convince himself that today would be the day he’d be successful in his task. 

Once more, he began to walk the dirt road that led towards the town. It was another fair day; not as hot as it had been the day before, which he was quite thankful for, but it was bright and warm. 

As he walked, he regarded the slopes of the imposing hills to the south. He would have relished another visit to that small, secluded loch, and regretted that he didn’t have the time to spare to do so. He would have enjoyed another chance to have a swim, and he wondered if he might have seen the mysterious black horse again. He had intended to ask Keith if he knew anything of it. Considering their conversation yesterday, Keith had seemed receptive to the notion of other-worldly beings, however, Lance had forgotten to bring up the subject, having gotten so distracted by his storytelling. Keith was distracting, he thought.

He thought about him as he strolled along. He thought about how quickly he had taken to liking Keith’s company, which was in strict contrast to what he had expected, considering what he had been forewarned. It was odd that, despite the things that were held in the balance, Lance found himself so ready to disregard his purpose ashore, and indulge his time with Keith, instead. There was simply something pleasant about sharing the day with him. Lance had enjoyed it so much; he almost didn’t lament the opportunities he had squandered in doing so. 

Lance liked the way he felt in his presence. He liked the way Keith smiled at him. He liked his gentle laugh and the way it never came across as condescending, even though it very easily could have. Keith was kind-hearted, he could tell. Undemanding and tolerant too, which were commendable qualities to possess, so it truly was a baffling thing that he was unattached in any way. The lady that could take up the honour of being with Keith for the rest of their days would be quite lucky, indeed. The mood which accompanied that thought was as unhappy as it was confusing. 

Once again, Lance realised his mind had become distracted by Keith. He chose instead to wonder how he might go about his time in the town. He would begin in the market street and then progress through the shops. 

It seemed like a good arrangement, but then Lance found himself surprised and distracted yet again, for there, up ahead by the side of the road, was no other than Keith. He was sitting atop of some large boulders, with his back resting against the largest, and his legs stretched and crossed at the ankle. He held his book on his lap, and he stared at it in concentration, deeply invested in whatever was happening between the pages. 

As Lance drew nearer, he regarded the way Keith’s brows were almost touching, which made Lance smile. He could now appreciate how addicting reading was, and to be so thoroughly absorbed in another world that it could make the present dissolve away and leave one shamefully unaware of their surroundings. 

Since Keith appeared oblivious to Lance’s approach, he took the sudden notion to play a little trick on his new friend. Before he got so close as to be noticed, Lance left the road and detoured far around the rocks until he was able to approach Keith’s position from behind. Plucking a long-stemmed grass flower as he stalked silently closer, Lance stretched out with the length of greenery and aimed it with the intention of tickling his cheek or ear.

“I know you’re there, Lance,” said Keith, without so much as lifting his eyes from the page. 

Lance almost toppled over in surprise. “What?! How did you—?”

Snapping the book shut, Keith finally looked around at him with one of those wide smiles that he was becoming accustomed to seeing now. Lance felt the heat of a blush upon his cheeks and couldn’t prevent his pout at Keith for spoiling his fun. It only served to make Keith laugh, the sound of which was infectious enough to cause Lance to break into a smile of his own, prompting him to flush even hotter. 

Hopping down to the ground to stand in front of Lance, Keith shrugged. “Maybe you’re not as quiet as you would like to think you are,” he teased. Before Lance had a chance to express his indignity at the insult, in a much softer tone, Keith asked, “Are you busy today? Only, I am wondering if you might like to sit with me awhile, so as we may share some more of the story? Considering how we left it so abruptly yesterday.”

Lance knew he shouldn’t. He had promised himself not to be distracted today, but the idea of resting with Keith and hearing some more from his storybook was quite tempting. After barely a few moments, Lance concluded that it wouldn’t necessarily consume his _whole_ day. He could afford to spare a few hours before going into town. 

“I would very much enjoy that,” admitted Lance, questioning the ease with which it took him to answer.

Then, before he knew it, Lance found himself back in the same spot to which they had visited the day before. Keith lay on his stomach, while Lance lay beside him on his back, listening attentively. By a pleasant coincidence, Keith had packed some surplus lunch for himself in his knapsack which he was happy to share with Lance when they both became hungry. 

Once again, the hours slipped by, but Lance was too caught up in the story from the way in which Keith’s gentle voice carried his imagination away to another place and time. He found himself more than once admiring the slender, gloved fingers that traced the lines of text as he read, brushing across the paper gently and occasionally bringing one of them up to absently lick his tongue over the pad to help turn a stubborn page, certainly forgetting they were still dressed in leather. 

Focused on his mouth as he spoke, after a while, Lance began to tell when Keith was becoming parched by the way he would lick his lips and attempt to swallow, so Lance made himself helpful by passing him a bottle to drink from each time he noticed the signs, and Keith would take a sip with gratitude. 

A passing thought flitted across Lance’s attention that Keith’s lips were rather pretty; delicate and pink as the petals of a dog rose, with a gentle cupid’s bow. Their hue was complemented by his pale skin that stood in beautiful contrast with his jet-black hair which, regardless of the time of day or the weather, always had a damp appearance. As he thought upon it, he noticed something there; something green, right above his ear. Without any concern, he reached up to remove it. Before his hand was barely halfway there, Keith stopped mid-sentence, his covered palm smacked against Lance’s wrist and his fingers gripped tightly, holding him still. 

Lance immediately felt foolish for forgetting Keith’s aversion to touch, and hastily asked for his forgiveness. Keith quickly released his hold and flinched away, looking both ashamed and upset.

“Nonsense. You did nothing wrong. It’s just— I’m—”

“Please, there’s no need to explain,” Lance protested, sitting up, “and I _do_ need to apologise. I forgot my manners. I shouldn’t have— I saw there was something in your hair and I thought to remove it for you.” 

Keith pushed himself to sit, and nimbly tugged each finger free from its glove, before bringing his hand up to comb them through his hair where Lance had been reaching for. He pulled out what looked like a piece of duckweed and shrugged when he saw it. “It happens,” he said dismissively and promptly threw it away. “Do you mind if we stop for a moment? I could use a little rest,” he asked, changing the subject.

“Of course; you need not ask!” 

Keith smiled in thankfulness and placed the book’s thin ribbon between the pages to hold their place. A bashful expression crossed his face as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, “Thank you. Not for the reprieve, I mean for… for simply being here. For indulging me with your company. This is… nice.” 

Their eyes met and lingered for a moment. Lance felt his skin prickle as a something swept over him, making the hairs on his arms come alive. Keith dropped his gaze and looked away. 

Lance had to run his tongue across his lips before he could speak and his throat felt thick, making it difficult for him to work his voice. “Me too,” he said quietly, “It’s been quite some time since I was last able to appreciate, and be appreciated, in someone else’s company.” 

Keith looked up at him, apparently taken aback by his admission. “I don’t understand, you appear to readily attract good company.”

“That may be true of late, but where I come from—my people are not so accommodating. You see, I am scorned for being… well, myself,” Lance chuckled without mirth. “They have particular traditions and rules that I…” he stopped himself before he would say too much. 

“You disagree with them?” Keith helpfully finished for him. 

Lance nodded. 

“Did you run away?” Keith asked, assumingly. 

“No, I wanted to prove them wrong, to show them that there were alternatives. To persuade them that things could be different.” His thoughts turned inward, although he continued to speak aloud, “I was convinced I could do it, but now I’m not so sure.” 

“But you must at least try, right? What’s the worst that could happen, after all?” Keith encouraged.

“If I fail, I will be shunned from my home forever. It’s either that or I concede to their ways, which would force me to push all my morals and my desires aside and do what they wish. In either case, I will be condemned to spend my life miserably.” 

To be able to share his heaviest thoughts with someone else for the first time was unexpectedly gratifying, aided by the fact that speaking with Keith in itself was an easy thing to do. Almost too easy, it seemed, as he found himself continuing to tell more than he intended to. 

“Firstly, you must understand, my people—they are more concerned with… let’s just name it ‘legacy’." Lance tried to think of the simplest way to put it without the details. “They are concerned solely with the offspring of our unions, and care nothing for the union itself.”

“So, your family—your parents—they do not aspire for you to wed?” Keith asked, with the purpose of seeking clarity rather than for the intention of being judgmental, going by his intonation. 

“My elders were the ones who raised me. My father died when I was a young boy; my mother I never knew. I have no knowledge of whether she still lives, or how to trace her whereabouts if she does. No way of knowing if she still thinks of me or my father… if she ever forgave him for taking me away from her, or if she loved him, despite learning he held no love for her.” 

Keith frowned, his expression pensive, “Your father didn’t love your mother?” 

It made Lance grimace at how it sounded, but he reminded himself that it _was_ as wrong as it came across. He did not need to apologise for them. He knew it was aberrant, which was why he was fighting so hard to oppose it now. He shook his head, “My people don’t hold much in the way of emotional bonds. As I said, they are more invested in the legacy of their unions.”

“So, there is no place for love,” Keith concluded, and Lance shook his head again. “But you feel differently,” he finished, nodding slowly as Lance’s situation began to unfold. 

Lance turned his face away, overwhelmed with the embarrassment of presenting his emotions so fully for the first time, especially considering _love_ had become the focus of the discussion. He twisted the conversation back to Keith, to spare himself. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Lance asked. Keith seemed to fluster before quickly schooling his face. “I’m sorry, that was too personal and inappropriate to ask; please, forgive me,” he smiled as he raked his fingers through his hair, yet something compelled him to continue. “Only, I’m curious. I’ve seen no ring upon your hand, and it puzzles me that someone such as yourself would be without a wife, already.” His statement hung in the air, almost sounding unfinished.

Keith tilted his head slightly as the corner of his mouth drew upwards and he lifted a single, questioning brow. “Someone such as myself?” 

Lance struggled with words to justify his phrasing. “I meant no offence, I only meant that— that you're, well... handsome, and appear to have many likeable qualities—” Keith’s smile grew with each compliment, leaving Lance more flabbergasted. “A-and, well, from what I have observed since my arrival, there are a number of ladies that would be honoured to be the one to catch your eye.”

Keith gave a short laugh before his mood shifted. He looked downwards as he plucked at the grass by his boots. “Indeed, I have no doubt there are, but perhaps it is not the ladies that catch my eye.” When Lance made no acknowledgement of his meaning, Keith looked up and posed a question. “From what you have told me, it seems as though you are resolute to find someone whom you chose for love, am I right?” Lance agreed. “And when you find this person, you will then have your means by which to demonstrate to your elders that their ways are not the only ways of… continuing their legacy,”—Keith iterated Lance’s delicate choice of words— “that it can also be succeeded through a union brought about by love?” Lance nodded again; unsure what Keith was attempting to conclude. “Forgive my candour, but I ask you to consider this: what if you find love, but your union would never bear you children?” 

All of a sudden, Lance was struck by this scenario, which he had never considered before. He had spent so long dreaming of finding someone he could love and be loved by in return, imagining how he could share his time between the land and sea to own the best of both worlds, that he had never considered what it would mean if such a relationship bore no children. 

What even was a selkie, if not to be a parent to their heritage? This was something that his elders had never addressed, for if a selkie had ever been unable to produce any offspring with a human, then they would merely find another until they succeeded. Without emotions, especially without love complicating matters, this was a permissive contrivance that the others could easily follow, but Lance... 

Lance became aware he had been working through these thoughts for some time when Keith broke his concentration, shifting while waiting patiently for him to answer. 

What would it mean to him if he fell in love and couldn’t also fulfil his responsibility? He would never be able to abandon someone he loved, but he knew in his heart, his elders would never allow him to remain. He would be made to find another mate or face banishment. Would he be willing to sacrifice everything for love? The dread of the prospect—of losing his selkie skin, of losing who he was—had been the very thing that had compelled him to be so determined in his quest in the first place, but equally, so had his determination to find love. 

“I’m so sorry,” Keith apologised, “it was not my intention to flutter the dovecotes, I should learn to keep a better hold of my thoughts, sometimes.” 

“I find it rather appealing that you speak your mind,” came Lance’s honest answer. 

Keith laughed in amusement, “Then you are an even rarer creature than I thought!” he said before his soft cheeks blossomed with a rosy tinge and he forced his attention back towards the blades of grass by his boots once more. He swallowed and took a breath, “Tis a pity you will be moving on so shortly, I feel we have much in common. I’m quite sure we would have become great companions, given time.” 

“No need to sound so melancholy now, I still have two days remaining.” Lance only understood as he said it that it was true, for the sun was now hanging low, and yet another day of possibilities had slipped through his fingers. 

“Two days? So, you have made up your mind to leave this Sunday?” Keith sounded surprised and concerned to hear this news, which gave Lance a sense of guilt as if he were letting him down by leaving.

“I could come back to visit,” he proposed hastily, “I’m sure wherever I end up won’t be too far from this place, and assuming that you have plans to stay here.”

“That would be something to look forward to,” Keith said, slipping his hands back into his gloves. He smiled upon hearing the suggestion, but Lance detected there was still a note of sorrow in his voice. 

“We should think about returning to the inn if we should want to make it back in time to receive any supper,” Lance said as he rose and held out his hand for Keith to pull himself up with. Keith had already clasped his gloved hand to his forearm and was at eye-level with him before Lance had time to realise his mistake. 

Keith paused, holding Lance’s arm and gaze for a moment longer than he thought normal. He didn’t understand why, but for all of that moment, he had found himself holding his breath as though in anticipation, but for what, he did not know. Then Keith dropped his clasp and turned abruptly to begin the descent back to the inn. 

It was just as they were about to leave the hill path and join the road, that Lance finally interpreted what that feeling had been. It struck him with a great force, as he now understood what it was, or what it had been and, perhaps, what it still was.

His stomach lurched as he repeated the moment over and again in his head. It was possible he could be mistaken; after all, he didn’t know an awful lot about emotions, but that feeling had been a lot like _desire_. In the sense of, he desired Keith. Similarly, the feeling which he had sensed from Keith, was as if _he_ desired _him_. 

Lance tried to dismiss it as some type of misunderstanding, but every thought seemed to circle back to the same feelings and the same conclusion. 

They walked along the road once more in companionable silence, but Lance’s thoughts were anything but quiet. 

He recalled every discussion they had shared that day, and it made him grateful for their current lack of idle talk because, in light of this revelation, there were things falling into place, options of desire that were only now able to present themselves for consideration, and if anyone had pressed him to speak at any point along that road, he was unsure if he would have been able to respond. 

Initially, he dismissed this new proposition as something his imagination had conjured up, perhaps some strange flight of fancy, but then he remembered that Keith had more or less told him directly to his face, that it was ‘ _not the ladies that caught his eye’_ , which left the alternative to mean…

Was it possible? 

It was not something that existed among his people, although, now he was reconsidering everything he thought he knew, he realised he had seen it all around him as he had been growing up. He knew that other species often chose one of their own sex as a mate, from dolphins to gulls, and yet he had never questioned or entertained the possibility that it was something that a selkie would do. Perhaps it was something that other selkies felt, but he knew fine well that they would never have been able to act upon, because what was their worth if they could not contribute to sustaining their population? 

Then, hit by another wave of understanding, Lance questioned himself. 

He knew the feelings he got when a girl took his fancy. He was familiar with what it was like to have his pulse quicken and his breath stolen. The way that Keith made him feel was exactly like that. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Lance had spent the past few days basking in Keith’s company, craving it even. So much so, that he had risked losing everything that he held most important to him.

The reason was not Keith’s storybook adventure (although he had enjoyed it), it had been so he could experience those soft smiles, those tender glances, those moments where Keith had made him feel warm, welcome, and special.

And now that he knew, now that his eyes were as wide open as his heart, he questioned Keith. Did Keith harbour the same feelings for him? Had he wanted to share his days with him because he liked him as a friend, or did Keith like him as something more? When Lance had talked about moving on, Keith had appeared forlorn.

Pulled from his reverie, Lance found they had reached the inn. As they found their way into the public room and took to their now familiar places once more, there seemed no time to contemplate these matters further, as he was welcomed like an old friend by the other revellers. 

This time, in a deviation from all the other evenings, it was Keith that took his turn to sing first, and without any prompting. The song he sang was another lament, in the same foreign tongue that he had sung in once before, but this time it worked its way into Lance’s chest and wrapped its words and melody around his heart. It was as if it were a song sung only for him—as if he were the only other person in the room. Keith kept his eyes closed until he was finished and when he opened them again, he was gazing right at Lance, with a look that conveyed some deep secret, which sent a shiver up his spine. So, when it became Lance’s turn to sing, he felt compelled to respond in kind, by singing a love song of his own. 

And so, they continued like that for the rest of the night. Lance knew of the effect he was having on everyone in the room. As usual, his enchanting selkie voice worked its magic and touched everyone whose ear it fell upon, and he wondered for a moment if that was the reason why something magical seemed to be happening, which caused him to question everything all over again. After more consideration, Lance found himself in even deeper confusion about his feelings, and about what Keith might be thinking of him, and why. 

With effort, he attempted to direct his focus back towards the girls, but by the end of the night, he knew that his heart was wishing for that pursuit no longer. His head was so consumed with thoughts of Keith that there was little room for much else. 

At closing time, just as he was leaving to make his way upstairs to bed, Keith caught his elbow. Lance found himself unable to resist his attention. When he turned towards him, he saw he was wearing the same mixed expression he’d had when they had broached the news of his departure, something that was both fond and dejected.

“I was thinking that, if you are still intent on moving on in a couple of days—and you had no other plans, of course—we might have enough time to reconvene and finish our adventures with the good Captain Holt?”

“I’d like that, very much.” the answer slipped from Lance’s tongue before he had the chance to consider it, and what the consequences would be of losing yet another day. However, the way Keith’s face gladdened in response made him forget all reasoning, and he happily agreed to meet him again the next morning, before bidding each other a good night. 

Lance found Tom and asked if he would kindly make him another packed lunch to be ready first thing in the morning, but this time to make enough for two. Despite his curious look at the request, he agreed. 

That night, he dreamt brokenly; of kind smiles and blushing cheeks, of furious elders, and an impending groundswell.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally! Lance's bi awakening! It's okay, Lance. For lots of different reasons, it can take some of us longer than others to figure these things out, but the good news is, there's no expiry date!
> 
> Thank you all, once again, for all the sweet comments! I'm sorry I haven't found the time to reply to them all yet :( Also, I hope everyone will appreciate that I won't be answering any theories in the comments. I wouldn't wish to spoil any elements of the story for anyone, so you'll all need to keep reading to find out if your theories are on the right track, or if you're barking up the wrong tree!  
> Some eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that the final chapter count on this has gone from 9 to 8, but don't worry! There's no less story, I just goofed up! 🙄 Sorry!
> 
> I'm going to be focusing on five *cough* short *cough* nsfw fics that I'm writing as part of a prompt challenge I made for my birthday this week. The prompt list is pinned to my nsfw Twitter account. If you're over 18 and interested, please feel free to use it and create something from it yourself! Don't forget to use the tag and tag me also, so I can see it! 
> 
> The next chapter for this is almost ready for being beta'd, but both Lex and I are quite busy at the moment with helping run The First of Forever, which is a Klance first dates zine (you'll find a link for it in my Linktree, in my profile), but hopefully, it won't be too long!  
> Oh! The next (and final) two chapters will each feature an amazing piece of art by Lex! We both can't wait to finally get to unveil them!!  
> Stay safe, y'all!  
> Caz

**Author's Note:**

> Please see my profile for links to my social media so you can come and talk to me!


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